


gather me completely in her sighing hands

by seven_of_cups



Series: here the hands, here the mouth [1]
Category: American Horror Story: Coven
Genre: Blind Cordelia Foxx | Cordelia Goode, F/F, Pre-Relationship, minor mentions of transphobia, pure fluff, trans!cordelia, trans!misty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-12 13:54:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29385885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seven_of_cups/pseuds/seven_of_cups
Summary: sweetly matched confessions and t4t hand holding
Relationships: Misty Day/Cordelia Foxx | Cordelia Goode
Series: here the hands, here the mouth [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2158680
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	gather me completely in her sighing hands

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, I took a tiny break from soft as velvet and sweet like honey to bestow upon you some trans Misty and Cordelia content. I’m not a trans woman, but I am trans nb, so I really genuinely hope I’m not stepping on anyone’s toes here. If I am, please reach out in the comments
> 
> Title from “My Dove, My Lamb” by Phosphorescent, series name from “We’d Be Home” by Joan Shelley because I am incredibly bad at coming up with titles. 
> 
> WARNINGS!! Minor, minor themes of transphobia and suicide. Like half a line each.

Cordelia had learned, through an infuriatingly lengthy process of trial and error, to differentiate between silences. If she breathed slowly enough, listened gently enough, she could feel the energy in the room. It was a muscle she’d had to stretch before she had any semblance of confidence in it. But she did, now. And she knew, worrying at her lip, that Misty’s silence that evening was hesitant and thoughtful. Even in the short time they’d known each other, it was something Cordelia had come to know was unlike her. 

Amid the chaos that was rapidly destabilizing the coven, she and Misty had taken comfort in routine, spending their evenings tending to the greenhouse and practicing spells. She didn’t know Misty very well, but of the things she did know, her kindness and childlike enthusiasm stood out as immutable. She was a beacon of light in spite of the unimaginable betrayal she’d experienced at the hands of her family. In fact, she was one of the most genuine and lovely people Cordelia had ever met. 

So to listen and not be able to hear the way she hummed along to the Stevie Nicks albums that always played through the greenhouse alerted her to _something_. Cordelia could hear water sloshing in the watering can and a gentle shower onto healthy leaves and dry soil somewhere across the greenhouse. There was a faint echo in the room that made it irritatingly difficult to locate sounds. Though she had forced herself not to spend everyday wishing she wasn’t blind, as soon as Misty seemed even mildly troubled she would have given anything to read her expression, her body language. 

Misty’s steps, barefoot and slapping on the concrete, were lighter and slower than usual, like she was hiding. She sighed, quietly, a troubled little thing that made Cordelia frown. 

“Misty?” she asked curiously, setting down her own watering can. Misty hummed, noncommittal. “Done watering?” Her steps got closer, and Cordelia trailed her fingers along the table as she came to meet her. The watering can thumped on the table, and she felt it shift as Misty presumably leaned against it. “Thank you for helping me.” 

“It’s no trouble, Miss Cordelia, really. I’m so used to bein’ surrounded by nature all the time that comin’ here was a bit of a shock. So this is... _nice_. Little bit of home, I guess,” she offered. Cordelia tapped her fingers on the table, thinking. 

“How are you adjusting? Are the girls treating you alright?” 

“They’re good people, ya know. Deep down.” 

“I’m afraid this whole situation has brought out the worst in everyone. I’m sorry you have to see that,” she said, incredibly sincerely. Misty deserved better than their derelict excuse for a coven. 

“It ain’t _your_ fault,” Misty laughed, half hearted. “From what _I_ can see, you’re the one holdin’ ‘em all together.” Cordelia felt her ears burn and tilted her head down. This wasn’t supposed to be about her. 

“That’s very kind of you say.” She could hear her voice as it lowered and slowed, trying to push down a flattered smile. 

“I ain’t just sayin’ it, Miss Cordelia, I mean it. You’re a natural leader. I dunno why none of ‘em see it,” she said, a hint of that enthusiasm Cordelia was so used to flickering through again.

“ _Misty_ ,” Cordelia sighed, biting down on her lip. She could feel Misty’s magic swirling between them, encouraging and light and... _yearning_ , hopeful, worried? Her expression shifted, falling, as she cocked her head. “Are _you_ okay?” 

“ _What_?” She could hear Misty take a step back, her voice low. 

“You’ve been quiet tonight. It’s unlike you,” she offered curiously, trying to seem casual so she wouldn’t scare her off. “If something’s bothering you, you can tell me,” she encouraged. Misty was quiet, and Cordelia almost held her breath, straining to _listen_. She hated having to guess, but she could be patient for as long as Misty needed her to be. 

“I s’pose,” she started, strained, and Cordelia kept steady for her. “I’ve been meanin’ to talk to you ‘bout somethin’, but I didn’t know...how to start.” Her breathing fluttered, nervous, and then her warm hands were sliding over one of Cordelia’s. She held it tightly in both of her own and took a deep breath. Cordelia could practically _feel_ her heart pounding. “Miss Cordelia, I’m—I’m trans.” 

A pin drop silence filled the space between them, frozen, as Cordelia’s lips parted. Then she inhaled with a gentle smile, her face softening. 

“ _Okay_. I’m glad you felt comfortable enough to share that with me, Misty, thank you.” 

“Yeah?” Misty asked, choked and quiet. Alarmed, Cordelia nodded. 

“Oh, _Misty_ , yes, of course,” she exhaled, biting down on her lip as she raised her other hand to find Misty’s cheek. She cupped gently, swiping her thumb along soft skin. “Can I tell you something?” She could feel Misty nodding and leaned closer, squeezing Misty’s hand in her own. “ _Me too_.” 

“You’re…” 

“Mmhmm,” she affirmed, feeling a grin split Misty’s cheeks. Cordelia chuckled and smiled with her. 

“Miss Delia, I’ve never...I’ve never met another trans person in my whole life,” she told her, voice cracking as something warm and wet hit her thumb on Misty’s cheek. Cordelia’s chest tightened as she brushed away the tear. She remembered what that felt like, the moment she _knew_ she wasn’t alone, not really. 

“Well, you have now, haven’t you?” Cordelia encouraged, breaking their hands to hold Misty’s other cheek. She’d never wished she could look someone in the eyes more than she did in that moment. Misty’s hands came up over Cordelia’s as more tears dripped onto her fingers. “You’re not alone, Misty. And you don’t have to be ever again.” She nodded, sniffing. 

“Thank you,” she breathed, and Cordelia’s smile wavered as she tried not to cry herself, swallowing to push down the lump in her throat. 

“Thank _you_ ,” she whispered back. She trailed her hands from Misty’s cheeks, squeezing her hands once more before Misty broke away. 

“I wanted to _tell_ ya ‘cause, well, I was hopin’ you’d help me get hormones,” she said, her voice hopeful and so much _lighter_ than it had been at the start of the evening. Cordelia smiled, wide and lovely as she nodded. 

“Anything you need, I’ll do whatever I can to help you,” she assured, and she could feel Misty’s sudden excitement radiating off her as she shifted. 

“I was on ‘em for a while, sort of, ya know, before, but when I came here an’ saw all this, when I met _you_ , I figured you could help me do it the right way.” 

“What do you mean, the right way?” Cordelia asked, curious. “How were you getting hormones before?” 

“Nowhere bad,” Misty assured, but Cordelia frowned anyway. “I jus’ had to come all the way here t’get seen at this Planned Parenthood. They’re informed consent, so I didn’t haveta go see a shrink or anythin’. I’d have never been able to afford it. I could barely pay for those pills they gave me,” Misty told her. “Let alone doctor visits. Had to skip a buncha months. I know it ain’t... _good_ for ya, but hormones are damn expensive for a kid livin’ in a dirt poor little Christian town.” 

Cordelia had come out to Myrtle when she was young and still being babysat full time at Miss Robichaux’s while Fiona gallivanted around abusing her status as Supreme. She’d been too young for the boys school, and Fiona loathed to drag her around, so quiet and shy and awkward. So she dumped her with Myrtle. And Myrtle had loved and cared for and nurtured her like a mother. When Cordelia worked up the courage to tell her the truth, Myrtle was positively overjoyed, claiming she knew— _she knew—_ there was something distinctly feminine about her aura, and that she would protect her at all costs from the “rampant, insidious transphobia in this world.” 

But there was still the issue of Fiona. Cordelia had thought, without any semblance of a doubt, that those agonizing years when she had to fight to justify her existence were going to be the death of her. Then right when she thought she couldn’t stand another second of it, Fiona came around. And even through all of that, she’d been immensely privileged. She had money and time and a support system that helped her get access to therapy and hormones and surgery. Misty’s experiences had been far from that. 

“Misty, I’m sorry,” Cordelia offered, frowning. She didn’t know what else to say. Transitioning had saved Cordelia’s life, there was no question about it. 

“Yeah, me too,” she chuckled, but it was pained. “Livin’ alone where no one else had t’see me or _judge_ me made it easier. But it’s still...well, ya know. It’s hard.” 

“It is,” she breathed, understanding. “Misty, I’m gonna make you an appointment with my endocrinologist. Don’t worry about the cost. I wanna get you on the right prescription.” 

“Really?” 

“Yes, _really_ ,” Cordelia chuckled. “Whatever you need, I’m _here_.”

“I feel like my heart’s ‘bout to beat right outta my chest,” she laughed, breathy and light, and Cordelia bit down hard on her lip, quelling a grin. She knew that excitement, those butterflies, that feeling of _community_ , new and shining and bright way out in front of her. She wished she could see the grin on Misty’s cheeks. “Thank you, Miss Cordelia,” she said, giddy, and Cordelia found herself being pulled in for a tight hug. She froze, surprised, and then gently wrapped her arms back around Misty. 

Her hair tickled Cordelia’s cheek, long and curly, and she smelled like wildflowers and rain on an early morning. She was strong and soft and _warm_. Cordelia had never been this close to her. These little impressions were the only way she’d gotten to know her. Myrtle and the girls she could remember, picture in her mind’s eye. With Misty everything was new and surprising, and she filed these sensations away in her mind. Misty was funny and quick, imaginative and caring, resilient and uncompromising. Her voice was wonderful, her laugh more so, and it dripped with an accent that Cordelia had come to find increasingly soothing. But she’d never seen the way she smiled or the color of her eyes. It was... _unfair_ in a childish sort of way. 

“You’re a saint,” she muttered into her neck, and Cordelia chuckled, pulling back. 

“Hardly, but thank you,” she mused, biting her lip.

“Do the others know?” 

“Just Myrtle and Fiona, of course. I didn’t feel it was necessary to tell the girls. I’m their teacher. I wanted to keep some...boundaries between us. But please don’t let that stop you from telling them _you’re_ trans, if that’s what you’d like to do,” she encouraged, gently, and listened intently to Misty’s silence. “They would support you, if that’s something you’re worried about. I _know_ they would. They’re good girls, deep down,” Cordelia chuckled, echoing Misty’s words back to her. It pulled a little laugh from her, and Cordelia took it as a good sign. 

“I think, for now, it can stay right here in the greenhouse,” Misty said cautiously, and Cordelia nodded, pressing her lips together.

“Okay,” she breathed with a smile, reaching out for Misty’s hand. She took it and squeezed, and Cordelia squeezed back, lovely and warm. 

**Author's Note:**

> To quote Mars Wright, trans joy is resistance! And representation is so incredibly important! So here we are. I can’t promise anything, but if there’s something specific you’d like to see in this series let me know in the comments :)


End file.
